The Power of Memories
by Tabris93
Summary: Oneshot. A recapitulation of how things may have happened that horrible day in the history of Mt. Gagazet... answering and, as it turns out, winning! a challenge from Aurons Ghost at FFP.


AN: This story was written to a challenge submitted by Aurons Ghost on FFP ( Final Fantasy Project). The challenge was to write a short-story from one of the FF-games, within the game time line and including some of the main characters. I decided to go for a rather dark story, focusing on describing the emotions and thoughts instead of the action itself. Only the R&R's will let me know if I have succeeded or not. (Yes, that might be considered a hint - please let me know what you think. :)

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He walked silently on the crispy snow. With a quick smile he noticed that the entrance of Mt. Gagazet was close by, and that it was empty. No Ronso in sight. That meant that Yuna and her guardians had passed recently, the Ronsos were probably all occupied with greeting and helping them pass the mountain.

The wind increased as he started the uphill walk towards the mountain and made Seymour's blue hair wave slightly. His smile widened. For the first time since his recent passing, he became aware of not feeling the chill in the wind nor the cold snow underneath his feet. Some people might have been scared by that discovery, but to Seymour it only increased his feeling of freedom. Free from every bond that once had held him to this world; His mother, her sacrifice, Bevelle, Yevon, Yuna...

The young summoner's determined, yet pitying look was the last thing he saw in his Spiran life, yet the part of his soul that might have felt pain over her rejection was as gone as the rest of him should have been. His anguish left with his heartbeat, his human sorrow with his pulse. Seymour had embraced the detachment given to him by death, it freed him from all trouble, all pain. If the people of Spira only knew what comfort lied waiting in the arms of death. Worrying about Sin and all the petty troubles of the daily life in Spira – how futile and meaningless!

Seymour heard voices ahead of him. The Ronsos were near. He felt relieved by the thought that at least they would soon be free from their Spiran misery. Tightening the grip on his staff, he calmly approached the group of mountain warriors.

«Good afternoon, Ronso people,» he saluted, his voice gentle and soothing. The group turned and looked at him. Some of them gave him the Yevon salutation, while the rest of them bowed respectfully.

«Biran of the Ronso tribe welcomes Maester Seymour to Gagazet mountain.» A huge Ronso with yellow fur stepped forward, saluting Seymour again. «What brings great Yevon Maester to our mountain?»

«Freedom,» Seymour answered, his voice still calm, yet it contained a world of meaning. He closed his eyes and moved his staff ceremoniously, bringing forth a tide of his built-up magic and unleashing it upon all of the surprised Ronsos. His personal Requiem was powerful, bringing all the Ronsos down to their knees. A few of them tried to resist. Biran Ronso was one of them. Forcing himself back on his feet, he lift his spear in a final, desperate attack. With nonchalant, almost careless waves of his staff, Seymour silently walked amongst the ones that still managed to draw breath, killing them effortlessly. Biran fell dead to the ground before he had even been able to throw his spear.

«Why fight for your fragile, Spiran lives?» Seymour commented as he walked among the dead bodies, sadness filling his voice. «Is this spiral of death really worth fighting for?»

The undead Maester continued up the mountain. He knew that every Ronso was not killed, but that did not consern him. Estinguishing the Ronso tribe was not his goal, just to deliberate as many of them as possible. The thought brought a new smile to his face. If only he'd had the time, he would travel back to the Farplane to see all the freed and equilibried souls. Seeing their calm faces smile gratefully to him would be the biggest reward of both his Spiran life and his unsent existence.

Shaking himself free of his daydreaming thoughts, he focused on the task ahead. He had to get passed Yuna and her guardians. He knew the perfect spot for their final meeting. As he moved up the snowy white slopes, he suddenly turned right. Casting a small Fire-spell, he melted the snow on a small area, uncovering an old teleport pad. He had accidentally come across this one years ago, on his own pilgrimage. Few apart from the Ronsos knew about it, as this particular place was exposed to the demanding mountain weather, so the pad was usually covered in snow and ice.

_«Mum?» The little boy stared anxiously at his mother. «This place is cold. And scary. Can't we just go home?» The woman bent down to her son and smiled. «No, my dear boy. I am sorry, we can't go home. Don't you remember? We don't have a home to go back to.» The boy sniffed, nodding sadly. «Now,» his mother continued, standing up, «I will help you overcome their intolerance, and this pilgrimage will restore you with your honour.» There was a new pride in her voice. _

_The boy sniffed again, wiping his eyes with his arm. «Yes, mother,» he mumbled. She rewarded him with a warm smile. «Good, Seymour. Now, you see that strange pad over there? Take my hand. We will step on to it and then you'll see something fun...»_

Seymour shrugged off his memory and stepped on the pad, teleporting himself to the summit. The place was silent except for the low howling of the ice cold wind flowing freely in the hollow of the summit. Just to make sure things was going according to his plan, he stepped on the teleport again, going further in to the caves of the mountain. When he saw no sign of the party, he teleported himself out of the mountain, looking out across the long dead city of Zanarkand. As there was no sign of them there either, he returned to the summit and waited. He assumed they were having a rest or two up the mountain, tired from the harsh wind and the robust fiends that dwelled in the icy mountain.

He could almost see the ruins of Zanarkand from here. Just behind that hill, beyond the clouds... When he closed his eyes he could easily see it. Just as easy as when he had been there as a young boy. He rememberd the long, deserted road up to the dome; the strong and scary fiends.

_«No! Mother, no! I don't want you to become a fayth!» His voice was shrill, almost desperate. _

_«There is no other way. Use me and defeat Sin. Only then will the people accept you.» His mother was quiet and sad, yet her voice was still determined. «I don't care about them! I need you, Mother! No one else!» The resignation could be heard in the boys voice._

_«I don't...have much time left.» His mother sounded weak, making the boy even more scared._

Seymour returned to the cold and windy summit of today. He noticed that the old, torturing memories wasn't as painful anymore. Not now, when he had discovered the solution to all the pain and sorrow in the world.

«Soon, my dear Yuna, such trivial affairs will not bother you again,» he whispered to himself. «You will be released from your duty as a summoner. Such a burden will no longer be necessary as I free Spira from all their suffering, breaking the spiral of death for everyone... forever.»


End file.
